


Familiar Taste of Poison

by rizcriz



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M, post 4x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 22:07:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17875718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizcriz/pseuds/rizcriz
Summary: Quentin’s reaction. Post 4x05 fic





	Familiar Taste of Poison

It’s particularly cruel of the monster. To use it’s final moments to pretend to be Eliot. Even if it doesn’t know these are it’s final moments. Just come closer, Quentin, come closer so he can end this. So he can stop waking up and thinking for a moment that everything’s fine. Stop looking into eyes that are right by still somehow all wrong.

So he can stop reliving the last year of Eliot’s life. Stop thinking about how he shouldn’t have backed down—how he should have fought for them. Like how he fought for Alice when they were together. He should have fought.

God, why didn’t he fight?

From the moment Eliot came crashing through the door at Brakebills, Quentin knew. When he rushed across the room before he could stop himself. He knew. He fucking knew he loved Eliot. And he didn’t do anything about it. He just. Let his feelings fall down to the depths of his stomach and mind and pretended he didn’t spend every moment not in residual panic thinking about what it’d be like to kiss Eliot again. To kiss Eliot sober. To fall into bed together, sober. To have that with him.

And then they stepped through the clock and he’d been brave. Fighting monsters and gods and fairies is one thing. Opening up your heart, giving in to all the feelings—it’s so much harder. It’s like opening up Pandora’s box and dropping it directly in front of his beating heart and saying, “here. Hurt me.” And then hoping it won’t.

And Eliot hadn’t. He’d wanted it just as much as Quentin had. He knows that. 

But then they came back after Quentin spent so long without him. So fucking long sitting in a chair staring at a patch of flowers growing in the garden. 

And Quentin let Eliot break his heart. 

And then he lost him again.

And this fucking monster, is standing here, like. A day after telling Quentin that it killed the single most important person in Quentin’s, fuck, existence, and is trying to pretend to be him?

He just wishes it’d get closer. Faster.

He can’t keep looking at it. Eliot’s gone. There’s never going to be another kiss. Another hug. God, and he’d spent so much time not appreciating Eliot’s hugs. Fifty years of perspective, he guesses. There’s never enough time. Never enough time.

“Come on—“

Never enough fucking time. This is the last time he’s ever going to look into Eliot’s eyes and Eliot’s not even looking back—

“Fifty years—who gets proof of concept like that?” 

Quentin’s heart stops. What? “What?” What did it just say? 

How does it know? How does it know about Quentin letting Eliot break their hearts? How does it know to weaponize it—

“Peaches and plums, motherfucker.” A hand comes out and shoves him.

And for once, Quentin forces him to look up. Look into the monsters eyes. And—

“ _Eliot_?”

The gaze is so gentle, yet so fucking full. Like there are thousand things Eliot wants to say. A thousand things that Eliot could say.

Because Eliot’s alive.

Quentin’s eyes go wide, as Eliot sways, and Alice moves in—

He’s moving before he even thinks.

Eliot can’t die. Iris can’t have him.

Even if it means the monster kills Quentin for it. Even if his book ends tonight, anyways. It doesn’t matter. Because Eliot’s alive.

Eliot’s _alive_.

 


End file.
